Break the Ice
by Lucibell
Summary: Rangiku Matsumoto is a new artist for Kuchiki Records. She's recently fallen for her producer, Toushirou Hitsugaya. Toushirou is untouchable. Rangiku is determined to know why. SUMMARY UPDATE.
1. Prologue: She's a Handsom Woman

Liquid amber rippled as a young man swirled a glass. The music thudded throughout his body, mingling with the liquor that so deliciously relaxed his stressed and aching muscles. He watched as a lithe, busty body moved through the crowd to a stage opposite the bar. The DJ on the second floor turned the music down a decibel or two and an obnoxious voice rang out. The crowd stopped, the dance interrupted for an hour and a half's time of karaoke. The young man drained the glass and ordered another, then moved out into the crowd, settling at a table in the corner of the room, just in front of the stage. He shrugged off his suit jacket and loosed his tie, sitting back for the performances.

The thought that he shouldn't be doing this during his time off flickered through his mind momentarily. It was gone as soon as he took another sip of his drink.

The first few performers were merely mediocre. It was the fifth girl that caught his attention. Coincidentally it was the same busty redhead that he had noticed earlier. Though the song they had chosen for her was upbeat and too quick, her talent had gotten through to him. Her voice was close to ethereal, and he knew what it would take to make it that way.

When the karaoke was over and the music had returned to the thumping that had graced him upon entering, he stood and threw his jacket over his shoulder, holding it casually with two fingers. Leaving his glass and the proper amount for the waitress and bartender, he slid between bodies into the crowd.

It wasn't hard to find her. Her flawless figure and that particular shade of red was hard to miss; it helped, also, that a small gaggle of men had surrounded her, praise oozing from their lips as their eyes held completely different conversations. Confidently he strode up to her and draped a long arm over her shoulders, placing his lips close to her ear.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose you. Are you ready to go?"

She turned to him, her eyes wide and her mouth open in astonishment. He blinked at her, smiling. Realization dawned and her expression slid easily from surprise to gratefulness. She nodded and reached around to put her arm at his waist. "Sure thing. I'm beat."

As if it were the most natural thing in the world he led her to the exit, the warmth of her shoulder slinking into the skin of his fingertips. Her hand at his waist was soothing; lovely, he thought.

As soon as they were out of the crushing atmosphere of the club and the cool air hit them in a rush they let go. She shivered a little and he offered his jacket. Snuggling into it she gave him an odd look. Her grey eyes searched his with uncertainty.

"Not that I'm ungrateful, but why did you do that?"

He half-shrugged, pulling his smart-phone from his pocket and entering something into the keypad. "You seemed uncomfortable, what with all the ogling. And I wanted to talk to you alone." He replaced the phone in his pocket and let his hands rest in them. His head, tilted at an angle to look at her, rolled back on his neck and into a symmetrical tilt on the other side.

She scrunched her face, moving to return the jacket. "Ugh, not you, too."

He raised a hand, stopping her. "No. Not me, too. I actually wanted to talk to you seriously."

Her shoulders sagged as her defenses dropped. "Okay. What is it?"

He tossed a strand of hair from his face. "You sang tonight."

She looked at him as though he'd grown a second nose. "Yeah. So what?"

He blinked. "You're very talented."

She quirked a brow. "Thank you. I think. Wait, is this your way of hitting on me? Because it's odd, if it is."

He smirked. "No. I'm not hitting on you. I'm offering you a job."

She blinked several times in rapid succession. "Excuse me?"

He turned as the sound of tires on asphalt reached his ears. He looked back at her. "I said I'm offering you a job. I'd like to do a recording session and see where it goes from there." She blinked again. "You're good. Good enough to be famous. I just need to know if you'd be interested."

A sleek black car pulled up to the curb and parked. She nodded, "So long as this isn't a scam…" He shook his head and pulled a card from his pocket.

"No scam. Here." She took it and read it. Her eyes widened in shock.

"But you're—"

"Toushirou Hitsugaya, producer for Kuchiki Records."

The woman's grey eyes flew up to his and the shock evident in them was almost enough to make Toushirou laugh. As if to confirm his introduction, the valet offered the driver's side door to him.

"Mister Hitsugaya, your car."

He raised a hand to the valet, acknowledging him. "So, miss, what do you think? Care to come into the studio tomorrow?"

The girl was still stunned. "Um… Sure. Yes! Absolutely!" Her excitement got the best of her and she laughed. "I would love to. What time?"

Toushirou offered her a hand. "How about you give me directions, I'll drop you off tonight, and pick you up at nine thirty tomorrow morning?"

She smiled, placing her hand in his. "Sure thing."


	2. Amazing Grace

The next morning found Toushirou driving a barely alert Rangiku Matsumoto to the studio. He hadn't considered that mornings may not be her thing and he somewhat regretted it. Regardless, he passed her a cup of coffee and continued down the road, keeping his iPod on his "Chillout" playlist and maintaining the volume at a low level. The Jetta moved smoothly through traffic and Toushirou drove slowly so as to avoid jolting the young woman too much and spilling her coffee.

It just wouldn't do to bring in a new talent on his day off and have to find clothes for her. That would be… embarrassing, to say the least. Toushirou hadn't brought in a new female talent in a long time. Bringing one in and demanding new clothes for her would definitely raise eyebrows. It didn't matter that nobody had any reason to think inappropriate things about him; he knew they would. It was the way the music industry was and though he hated it, he still had to deal with it. Better to work around the structure than try to fight against it, or so he figured.

Neither of them had said a word since she'd gotten into the car and he'd passed her the coffee. As they pulled into the Kuchiki Records' parking lot and he parked, they still didn't say anything. He was out and at her door before she could even think of reaching for the handle. He opened it for her and stepped aside, shutting it and locking the car when she was out. Soundlessly he led her through the double doors into the main office.

Directly in front of the doors was what looked to be a waiting room, with chairs, chaises, and couches placed neatly in the empty space. In the middle was a vast circular desk, with a single, small woman behind it. She looked up as Toushirou approached, pulling her head back in surprise and furrowing her brow delicately. She dropped her pen and pulled off her glasses to glare at him.

"Mr. Kuchiki's going to have a fit when he finds out you've brought in another one on your day off."

Toushirou shrugged. "I can't help it. I just don't seem to find any when he sends me scouting. It's always when I'm not looking for them that they crop up."

The woman replaced her glasses and rolled her eyes. "Where'd you find her? At a bar singing Shania karaoke?" Toushirou heard an indignant "Hey!" behind him. He chuckled.

"As a matter of fact, it was at Fait Accompli. And yes, it was karaoke."

She smirked. "What? No men this time? I told you what I wanted you to bring back the last time you went scouting!" She handed him a small piece of paper.

The corner of his mouth turned up as he extended his hand to Rangiku, motioning her forward. "I'll be sure to let Mr. Shunsui know what it is you're looking for."

She spluttered. "B-b-but! Toushirou you wouldn't! Would you?" Her eyes were wide. Toushirou continued to smirk, his eyes sparkling in his otherwise stoic face.

"Thank you, Nanao," he said, and he led Rangiku behind the desk and into an elevator. The redhead continued to sip the coffee he had given her. He decided that she obviously didn't like it black and made a mental note. After a moment or so, she spoke. "So what did she mean when she said, 'you've brought in another one on your day off'?"

He shrugged. "Exactly what she said." Rangiku gave him a confused look. He sighed. "I have a bad habit of finding talent on my days off, as opposed to my scheduled scouting times. It's frustrating, to say the least. I could easily just get someone's information and then call them a day later, but I like to take every opportunity I can."

She tilted her head in curiosity. "Have you had someone get signed before you could get in touch with them before?"

He frowned, his white brows pulling inward over his turquoise eyes. His thick lashes fluttered as he blinked. "Something like that."

Rangiku could tell by his tone that she wasn't getting anything else out of him, so she settled on watching him in the reflective surface of the elevator's doors. He was tall – taller than her, which was saying something – and lean. His simple black polo hugged his chest and loosened at the waist, the white lion of Express emblazoned on the front. His jeans were a distressed wash, regular fit and boot cut. They hung low on his hips, barely held in place by a black belt. Black Converse All Stars betrayed his less than professional taste. His white hair hung in his face constantly, with a disheveled, just out of bed look. She found she rather liked it, and was surprised. She usually preferred more clean-cut, professional men – smooth, straight lines and sleek perfection. It seemed that Toushirou was the opposite of that, at least outwardly. She had a feeling, though, that he was a no nonsense kind of guy. She realized she'd been caught staring when he spoke.

"Like something you see?" he murmured. She looked up at his face but he wasn't looking at her. Rather, his impassive gaze was focused expectantly on the numbers lighting up above the door.

Before she could respond with even a blush the elevator rang and the doors slid open. A disembodied voice sounded soothingly overhead. "Sixth floor. Recording Studio Two."

The faint sounds of music exuded through the hallway, different genres mingling behind sound-proof doors. Steadily they approached one with a "Recording in Progress" light lit above it. Toushirou stopped in front of it and waited patiently, staring up at the sign. After what seemed like ages to Rangiku it went out and Toushirou opened the door.

Inside was a large group of people lounging in a large, cool, tiled white room in front of a window. On a platform in front was a recording panel, filled with countless knobs and switches and buttons that Rangiku had never seen before. There were two computer monitors on the platform, and two more in the room. Opposite the window were a couch and several chairs, on which various people lounged about. A white board on the wall was covered in nonsense that Rangiku couldn't decipher. As she looked through the window she saw the microphones and instruments on the other side.

There was a guy on the other side of the window, muttering into the microphone as they stepped in the door. "How was that?"

A man in a dress shirt and slacks sighed and stepped forward. "Take five. Come back here when you're finished." The guy behind the window nodded and removed his headphones, walking out a door on the other side. The man turned to them.

"Ah! Toushirou. Nanao told me that you would likely be stopping by." The man's dark gaze moved from Toushirou to Rangiku. "And who is this beautiful young lady?"

Toushirou motioned to Rangiku. "Miss Matsumoto, this is Kyouraku Shunsui, one of the other producers here at Kuchiki Records. Kyouraku, this is Miss Rangiku Matsumoto."

She extended her hand to the bigger man. "It's nice to meet you," she said, blushing.

Kyouraku was older and slightly more clean-cut than Toushirou. His wavy hair was pulled back into a tail at the base of his neck and a short cropped beard graced his chin and lip. He gripped her hand firmly. "I assure you, Miss Matsumoto, that the pleasure is all mine."

Toushirou crossed his arms. "Shall I go get Nanao, or will a cup of ice water do?"

The older man laughed. "Now, now, Toushirou. Don't get all defensive now. Surely Miss Matsumoto should have the last say in which one of us she likes best, hmm?" He turned to her, winking and Toushirou scowled.

Rangiku laughed. "Well, I must say that you're a much better conversationalist than Toushirou. It gives you points in my book."

Toushirou's scowl deepened. "I hope to god it's not a little black one, because if it is we're all in trouble."

Kyouraku laughed heartily and the others in the room joined him, watching the exchange quietly. This seemed to bring Toushirou back to himself and he uncrossed his arms.

"Rangiku, I should introduce you to the others."

As Toushirou named off each one they nodded or acknowledged her in some way. Rangiku smiled in return.

There were seven in all, aside from Toushirou, Kyouraku, and Rangiku. Kira Izuru, a lean figure leaning against the wall; Renji Abarai, a big man sprawled out on a random chaise lounge; Ikkaku Madarame, an imposing bald guy sitting backwards in a rolling chair and fiddling with one of the two computers in the room; Yumichika Ayasegawa, a rather metro sexual man with immaculate fashion sense perched delicately in an armchair; Ichigo Kurosaki, a tall, very fit man with the same shade of red hair as her, stretched out on the couch; Rukia Kuchiki, a small girl with black hair and petite features, snuggling into Ichigo's chest. Apparently she was the sister to the CEO and label owner, Byakuya Kuchiki. Finally there was Ganju Kaien, a scruffy man that Toushirou called a "lump of oaf", who was manning the recording machinery.

Before they could move on to anything besides introductions, the man who had been recording when Toushirou and Rangiku arrived returned, resuming his place at the microphone, headphones positioned over his ears. Toushirou instructed her to take a seat. He didn't seat himself, but rather stood behind Ganju with his arms crossed. Kyouraku sat down in a rolling chair beside Ganju and Ikkaku rolled up on his other side.

"Okay," the voice that passed through the speakers was rough. "Let's try this again. Whenever you're ready."

Kyouraku sighed. Ganju turned to him, an incredulous look on his face. The producer motioned for him to continue. Ganju proceeded to mutter things into his own mic, double checking setups and volume ranges. Toushirou glanced out of the corner of his eye at Kyouraku.

"What's wrong?"

The older man shook his head. "We're not really sure. Something's different. His singing isn't what it used to be."

"Yeah, no shit. It's because his attitude's changed. Guy's a total douche bag and it carries," Renji muttered.

Kyouraku sighed again. "Go ahead and start, Ganju. Let Toushirou try and pick it out."

The big man nodded and flipped a switch. Music filled the room and Rangiku was almost overwhelmed.

A fast hardcore riff struck her ears, followed by a second guitar, this one slower and deeper. The sound of distortion pedals grated pleasantly on her eardrums and she waited. After a few seconds the guy's voice filtered through the speakers. It was fine at first, but then the chorus started and his attempt at screaming the words came out all wrong. The pleasurable sounds of the drums and bass and guitars were interrupted by his voice. It was obvious he was trying too hard to sound grating and angry. She grimaced.

"Stop."

Toushirou's command was so quiet that she almost didn't hear it. Ganju nodded and pushed a button. The music stopped and the guy at the mic stopped too.

His voice, strained and scratchy from his singing, sounded irritated. "What now?"

Toushirou reached forward and pressed a button. "You're trying too hard. Take another break. I want to get someone else in there really quick. Come back here." He released it and stood up, waiting. The guy on the other side of the glass looked furious.

"Toushirou you bastard! It's your day off and my recording time! I don't know who you think you are, but you sure as hell won't get away with it! You wait until I tell—"

Toushirou leaned forward and cut him off. "I don't know who _you_ think _you_ are, Mr. Tetsuszaemon, but I know that I've explained to you more than once that insubordination is intolerable. Now I believe I told you to get back in here."

This made the dark haired, wiry man angrier. "What the fuck, Hitsugaya?! Insubordination? It's your day off –"

"It's also my recording studio. Now, get out." He stood up with a finality that made Rangiku realize that the argument was done. What was amazing was that Toushirou had maintained his cool demeanor the entire time. She would've snapped if someone had spoken to her that way.

Without turning to her he spoke to her. "Rangiku, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to take his place at the mic."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see it, and rose. "Sure." She made for the door and he turned his head towards her.

"You know how this works?"

She nodded again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've made one or two demos with friends. Nothing serious, but I'm assuming it's the same concept. Just stand and wait, sing loud and clear, and stand away from the mic." He nodded, satisfied and as she was exiting the guy from the other side of the glass stepped in. He looked her up and down.

"Hey there, gorgeous." He smirked. Toushirou's nostrils flared.

"Drop it, Iba. Take a seat and shut your mouth." Iba glared at Toushirou and then winked at Rangiku, then moved away. Rangiku closed the door behind her and took a few steps down the hallway to the next door and opened it.

This side of the one way window was bigger and much more overwhelming than any of the studios she'd been in. She swallowed her nervousness and moved to the mic, picking up the headphones from the music stand in front of her. She put them on her head, adjusting them to fit her. A soft baritone met her ears and she stared into the mirror at herself, hoping she was looking at his turquoise eyes.

"Can you hear me?"

She nodded.

"Okay. Now, just relax and be natural. Don't try; just sing."

She nodded again. This time a different, gruffer voice spoke to her. "Alright, Miss Matsumoto, 'Grace' me."

She blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"He means 'Amazing Grace'. We usually ask new vocal talents to sing a range of common songs, in order to better gauge their vocal ranges and comforts. The first one is always 'Amazing Grace'. There will be music. Don't worry."

She nodded again, swallowing. "Okay. I'm ready."

In her ears the music started and when her cue came, Rangiku Matsumoto sang.


	3. Diamond in the Rough

By the end of the week Rangiku was exhausted. Every waking hour was spent either at work or at the studio with Toushirou. She wasn't used to waking up so early combined with her usual hours. She was accustomed to sleeping in until early afternoon and beginning work in the evenings, waiting tables at a local pub. Late nights were spent closing up and then the occasional night out. Toushirou had managed to catch her on one of her few nights off the night they met at Fait Accompli. Soon enough she got used to waking up early and riding with Toushirou to the studio, being dropped off around two or three, and then going into work between four and six. She got done between eleven and two. It wasn't the most rigid sleeping schedule, but her body had grown used to waking at eight thirty every morning, so it didn't matter how many hours she got. She was always up and ready on time, even if she was usually grumbling.

Toushirou had learned a lot about Rangiku in a week's time. She was a recent university graduate, with a Masters in the Fine Arts in Music Education. She hadn't gotten a job teaching yet, hoping to move on into a Ph.D. Program before she did so. She claimed that she'd rather deal with adults than insubordinate kids. She wasn't a morning person and didn't have the patience for kids just yet, she said. As such, she was willing to wait another year or two until getting a "real job".

Her studies had been more in string teaching, specifically violin. She was hoping to find a job as an orchestra teacher somewhere, but she knew and enjoyed enough music theory to teach that as well. She claimed that her vocal training had been minimal, though Toushirou wasn't sure he believed her. She had too much control to not have been taught for at least a four year stretch. He wondered if it had been in her younger years and she considered it insignificant. She had mentioned that the only person who'd really taken any interest in her voice had been an old music teacher in her high school, but she hadn't seriously pursued anything other than violin.

Her first day at the recording studio had surprised everyone. No one had really known what Toushirou had unearthed until Byakuya Kuchiki had declared, "You've found a diamond in the rough, this one. She'll need some polishing, but I think you can do it." Toushirou had blinked in surprise and merely nodded.

At first no one knew what to do with her talent. Usually new talents were predisposed to some genre or another. Rangiku Matsumoto was not one of those talents. Byakuya had initially been summoned to make the final decision. In the end it had been Toushirou. He heard something in her voice that no one else but Byakuya seemed able to pick up on: he swore she had a southern accent. Everyone else thought he was delusional, until Byakuya had said so, too.

He hadn't looked away from the redhead in the window since she'd started singing. "Southern. Not the Carolinas or Northern Georgia. It's not that delicate. She's not from the mountains either. Lowlands. She's from the Gulf: Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, or Florida."

Ichigo had looked incredulous. "Floridians have _southern_ accents? No way."

Toushirou had tilted his head back to look at him. "You'd be very surprised. People that live in the panhandle or Tallahassee area have some of the thickest accents ever. It's all pastureland and it's so close to Alabama that no one really notices. It's not until you get south of Gainesville or Daytona that it changes."

Byakuya had nodded in agreement. "I think you should pursue that with her. I know I've discouraged it in the past, per our bad luck, but I think it's worth a shot. She's very talented. You've found a diamond in the rough, this one. She'll need some polishing, but I think you can do it."

He had patted Toushirou on the shoulder and left.

Since then they had been working on a demo album, all cover songs for the time being. Toushirou and Rangiku had carefully chosen the songs to fit her voice, staying with ranges she was comfortable with. When they weren't recording and she wasn't working, she was training with her new vocal coach: Juushirou Ukitake.

He was a tall man with long, white hair. If Rangiku hadn't known any better, she would have thought that he was Toushirou's father. It seemed that he and Kyouraku were the best of friends. The gentler man liked to indulge Rangiku about Kyouraku's relationship with Nanao. She had at one time been the producer's assistant. She had done so well organizing Kyouraku's life that Byakuya Kuchiki had asked her to handle the affairs of the label. She had readily accepted and Kyouraku had begrudgingly let her go. She still reorganized Kyouraku's life every couple of months, but other than that she was well tied up with the label's affairs.

Her vocal coach was delicate and easy to get along with. He didn't push her further than she could go; didn't ask for more from her than she could give. She was grateful for that. Her years in school had been trying and she was looking for a little bit of a break before she started back. She wouldn't tell anyone where she had graduated, though. There were no signs of her studies anywhere in her apartment as far as Toushirou had seen on his brief trips to get her in the mornings, and she absolutely refused to tell anyone her origins.

Rangiku had blushed furiously when Ichigo had first asked her where she was from and refused to answer directly, vaguely replying, "Down south somewhere; it's not really important." After several more attempts by everyone she had met that first day Rangiku had confided in Toushirou, her new producer and manager.

"I'm from a small town in Florida along the Alabama line. I don't know why everyone keeps asking!"

He had smiled knowingly and replied, "It's in your voice. You can hide everything with the way you dress, walk, and speak, but you can't change the way you sing. That's all natural."

She had tilted her head in wonder. "Is that why Iba Tetsuzaemon sounds so bad? Is he trying too hard?"

Toushirou had huffed. "We won't go there. Not now."

Rangiku had shrugged and continued eating her sushi. When meals were free, she knew not to push buttons.

Since that first day Rangiku had successfully recorded four of the ten songs selected for the demo. Things were running surprisingly smoothly and Rangiku finally felt like she belonged somewhere.

Rangiku had somehow earned a very much needed few days off from work at the restaurant and was spending the day at the studio with Toushirou. He had insisted that she bring her violin and she had reluctantly obliged. They were starting a new song today, and as much as Kuchiki Records' musicians had been helpful, they didn't really have a full time string section. Any violinists that Toushirou had called on before were tossed to the wind in favor of Rangiku. He figured that if she vested more interest and work into her demo, it would sound better and thus do better.

She hadn't expected that everyone in Toushirou and Kyouraku's little posse would be there to listen to her play. Even Byakuya Kuchiki had stopped by to "check on her progress". Nanao had conveniently dropped in to leave some papers with Toushirou and decided to stay if she was "already going to be playing".

Rangiku gritted her teeth as she pushed the door to the recording room open. There was a straight backed chair in front of the microphone, a music stand ready and waiting for her. She laid her violin case on a table and opened it, well aware of the unseen eyes on her back as she tuned her violin and warmed up. Finally she moved to the chair and sat down, glancing quickly at the music. She flipped a page or two, and then moved back to the first. She looked up at her face in the window, meeting stark teal eyes with her cool, calm blue ones. "I'm ready," she said, not really caring if he could hear her or not.

"Alright. It's the same thing as before. Just relax and play. If you need to rest, just stop. We'll follow your lead."

His voice filtered through her headphones and she noticed that her body involuntarily relaxed. She didn't know if he was aware of it or not, but his constantly cool and collected demeanor had its effect on everyone. She had noticed it in the past few days, but never had it been this effective on her. It surprised her.

She nodded and waited. The music started and she waited two counts before she started.

If they had thought her voice was phenomenal, then her violin playing was apocalyptic. Toushirou was stunned, his jaw slack and lips parted slightly. Byakuya blinked and uncrossed his arms to lean forward on the monitoring station. Nanao adjusted her glasses, and Ichigo just said, "Whoa."

She played the whole song through perfectly. What Toushirou didn't know was that Rangiku had learned how to read music _after_ she'd gotten her Bachelors degree. It had been one of the prerequisites for entering the Masters program she'd gotten into. Her professors at her undergraduate university either hadn't noticed or cared that she couldn't read music. The admittance board for her graduate degree, however, had been more meticulous and much stricter. They had noticed immediately at her audition that she hadn't once looked at the piece of music and had demanded that she learn to read music. They had been willing to bend the rules for her in order to keep her there.

Since then Rangiku had learned to associate the notes on paper to sounds in her head. Since she was naturally auditory, it came like second nature. She could read a piece once and know how it was supposed to sound. It only helped that she had heard this music before and knew how to imitate those sounds with her violin.

When Rangiku was finished recording for the day – having played all the necessary violin pieces in a matter of hours – the effect on her friends was visible. She was proud of herself, that she could make Byakuya Kuchiki blink owlishly at her. But she was also shy. She didn't want her talent to affect how they saw her.

It had happened before and Rangiku didn't want to have to face that again.


	4. New Kid in School

Two months later found Rangiku Matsumoto and her friends at Kuchiki Records at her debut album's release party. She felt butterflies in her stomach as one by one her friends stood in front of everybody present and proclaimed her hard work and talent. Toushirou – for all his stoicism – practically beamed at her right side. She couldn't be happier that she had made him proud. Her first single from the album had already hit the top one hundred on the country charts. It was rare for a Kuchiki country singer to do so well, she had learned. They seemed to do better in the rock scene, but Rangiku had taken the whole nation by storm. Radio stations were praising her vocal and violin talent. The next Alison Krauss, they crooned. All she could do was smile.

Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest as Toushirou finally took the podium. She had been more worried about what Toushirou would say about her than what Byakuya Kuchiki had to say. Luckily Toushirou was the last person to speak and she wouldn't have to fret any longer. She watched as he walked smoothly to the front of the room, stepping up to the podium.

He wore a chocolate colored Armani suit, with a teal blue shirt and brown satin tie underneath. The colors made him look bronzed and exotic against his white hair and teal blue eyes. His gaze swept the room completely and then settled on Rangiku. He smiled and his eyes twinkled, looking almost sea foam green in the light. She thought her heart stopped. She didn't know when Toushirou's effect on her had gotten more intense, and she really didn't care, but she hoped it wasn't as obvious to others as it was to her. However, she doubted Kyouraku could miss such an attraction. It seemed that lately the tension between them had gotten stronger, almost palpable in small enclosed spaces, much like the many recording studios and radio stations they'd been in the last few weeks. Kyouraku teased her mercilessly when Toushirou wasn't around.

She sincerely hoped no one else noticed when he started to speak and her breath hitched.

"I found Rangiku Matsumoto on my night off at a bar," he started. The crowd chuckled and Rangiku hid her face with her hand as she blushed and Renji elbowed her left side. Toushirou waited as the laughter died down, steadily looking at Rangiku with the same twinkle in his eye. "I saw her once before the karaoke started, but didn't pay much attention to her until she was up on stage." He tilted his head thoughtfully, blinking his eyes as his expression softened and he moved his gaze elsewhere. For a moment Rangiku thought she could breathe again.

"She was the only one that got on stage that night that was worth listening to. Even though the pop music and rapid lyrics didn't suit her, her voice was still…" he hesitated here, his eyes flickering around the room as if searching for the word. Finally they fell on her face and he smiled again, relaxing. "Ethereal."

Rangiku was horrified as Renji burst into guffawing laughter, followed by others in the room. Toushirou chuckled and looked down, straightening his tie and waiting again for the laughter to stop. When everyone had settled down, he glanced back up at her, still smiling.

"I know that's out of character, for me to be so sentimental, but it's the truth." He looked away from her and back across the crowd. His eyes stopped somewhere across the room and to the back. "I've only ever heard one other voice that compared, and even that person, on her best day, could not match Rangiku as she sang a song that was too fast and upbeat for her style."

He looked back at Rangiku, all expression of mirth gone. His face was all seriousness as he stared at her grey-blue eyes. "Rangiku's talent is beyond anything I've ever heard, both vocally and on the violin." He pulled something from the podium, and after a moment Rangiku realized it was a plaque, with the new album cover and a gold plate on it. Renji nudged her again and she rose, her mouth agape. She looked to Kyouraku whose eyes shone with amusement.

"Go," he mouthed. She took a shaky step forward.

When her gaze finally found Toushirou's again it wasn't so hard to walk toward him. His expression was warm, welcoming. She'd never seen it before. Before this moment he had always been stoic and cold; easily irritable. Now, Rangiku thought for the first time, he was more. He was more than just her producer, her manager. He was more than a good-looking friend that the girls she introduced him to drooled over. He was more than a handsome coworker.

Now he was so much more, she realized. She had fallen for him, while barely even knowing him, and he was completely untouchable. He had been there through her ups and downs, when she cried from exhaustion or frustration or nothing at all. He had been there when she unexpectedly fell asleep during a recording session or a movie with the group. He had driven her home and slept on her couch the one night she'd gotten drunk with Renji on one of the group's nights out. He had taken care of her, cared _for _her, and she hadn't done anything for him.

She knew then that she couldn't touch him. He wouldn't let her, and she wanted to know why.

She ignored the overwhelming rush of thoughts as she took her last steps toward him. When at last she stood in front of him, nearly eye level with him, he spoke.

"Rangiku Matsumoto, this album is the beginning of the rest of your career. If you work hard like I know you can, like you did with this debut album, only success awaits you." His teal eyes met hers and her knees went weak. He held out the plaque and she delicately took it from him. "I'm proud of you," he said.

The crowd stood in applause as her eyes filled with tears. Knowing she wouldn't want to be seen crying, Toushirou pulled her close to him. He held her close as she composed herself and the applause continued. "Are you okay?" he murmured finally. She nodded and leaned back, looking back up at him. He smiled and nodded, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her forehead in a brotherly gesture.

Her heart nearly broke before she resolved herself to find out why Toushirou Hitsugaya was so untouchable.

With renewed confidence Rangiku turned to the applauding crowd and raised the plaque above her head, laughing. The applause only started over again and she could feel Toushirou smiling as he clapped beside her.

Oh yes, she would know _exactly_ why he was untouchable. And then she would get around it however she could. But in the meantime, she would have a hell of a lot of fun.


End file.
